Are we there yet?

November 24, 2008

My first memory: I remember walking with my grandparents, holding hands, going to the grocery store (it was the Red Owl on the south side). I remember them doing that cool thing where they both hold your hands and lift you up as you step up onto the curb. Crystal clear.

The best lesson my mom taught me was that being ballsy can pay off.

The great thing I have in my life is moisturizer.

As you get older, write things down. You won't remember as much as you think you will.

Men look great giving you flowers.

My whole life has been, something, I'm not sure what.

I call myself on my own BS sometimes.

My last words will be I hope I get to do this again.

Happy Birthday to San Diego Momma, who turned 40 and celebrated with her take on Esquire Magazine's "What I've Learned" column with the above prompts. Binky figured taking it on and passing it along was as good a way as any to celebrate a birthday in the blogosphere. Hoo-rah.

My first memory: I remember walking with my grandparents, holding hands, going to the grocery store (it was the Red Owl on the south side). I remember them doing that cool thing where they both hold your hands and lift you up as you step up onto the curb. Crystal clear.

The best lesson my mom taught me was that being ballsy can pay off.

The great thing I have in my life is moisturizer.

As you get older, write things down. You won't remember as much as you think you will.

Men look great giving you flowers.

My whole life has been, something, I'm not sure what.

I call myself on my own BS sometimes.

My last words will be I hope I get to do this again.

Happy Birthday to San Diego Momma, who turned 40 and celebrated with her take on Esquire Magazine's "What I've Learned" column with the above prompts. Binky figured taking it on and passing it along was as good a way as any to celebrate a birthday in the blogosphere. Hoo-rah.

November 19, 2008

My husband tore his Achilles tendon ten days ago playing soccer. While not as painful (initially) as it sounds, he's been unable to walk since then.

During these nine days one or more of us has had: A debilitating injury, pink eye, an intestinal bug, a visit from my well-meaning FIL and no more than a few hours of sleep at a time.

During those nine days I have had a full time job, three blogs to update, a newborn, an extremely brat-tastic disrupted child, a husband completely stoned on pain meds, a house that is falling into a deep dishevel and a somewhat neurotic dog that will only poop if he goes for a walk. (true story)

This week someone asked the question On a scale of one to ten, how is your pain?

I was about to answer off the motherfucking charts but they weren't talking to me.

My husband tore his Achilles tendon ten days ago playing soccer. While not as painful (initially) as it sounds, he's been unable to walk since then.

During these nine days one or more of us has had: A debilitating injury, pink eye, an intestinal bug, a visit from my well-meaning FIL and no more than a few hours of sleep at a time.

During those nine days I have had a full time job, three blogs to update, a newborn, an extremely brat-tastic disrupted child, a husband completely stoned on pain meds, a house that is falling into a deep dishevel and a somewhat neurotic dog that will only poop if he goes for a walk. (true story)

This week someone asked the question On a scale of one to ten, how is your pain?

I was about to answer off the motherfucking charts but they weren't talking to me.

November 13, 2008

My husband pointed out last night that I hadn't blogged in awhile. I've been mulling around on the irony of how blogging has lead to some really cool writing projects for me and has expanded my audience to a wider cirlce, but in the end, that has left me with zero time to blog and less fodder because people in the real world come here nowadays and I am feeling a little stiffled.

Why don't you write about him? He asked, pointing to the 13 pounds of love which are permanently situated on my lap when I am home. I feel like it's not fair to that one I said, and I gestured to his older brother. But it's not fair to you to not do it, said the husband. The more I think about the more I think he's right.

Here's the thing: We are not baby people, my husband and I. We were not ones to grab babies from people arms and insist on holding them. We never dreamed starry-eyed of having babies or squealed at cute baby clothes. Until now. We are both, madly, completely, bottomless-ly, silly-talk kind of in love with this child.

My older son has procured lots of space on this blog, it's not that there is not enough real estate to go around. It's that the second time around could not be more different and I feel different than I did before and that's where the internal mother-conflict arises.

Baby one rocked my world but baby two smooths out the rough edges. I questioned after number one if I could even handle two, while number two makes me feel like I'd be crazy not to have five more. I doubted if I could love another like I loved the first. Dare I say, Iove him more.

I cringe as I write that because no, of course I don't love him more than I love his brother. But it's so much easier to love him and I've fallen hard and fast without all of that oh my god I'm a mother and I don't feel like a mother and I don't know what the hell is going on bullshit. I had to grow up and out and around in many ways to accomodate to the changes my first born brought with him but my second child easily assumed his place in our family. My arms. My heart. His spot was well thought out and carved just for him and he fits there beautifully. I feel like we were destined to meet and I appreciate him, and that gift that I almost smiled politely at and said no thank you to, that much more.

The fact that he is a baby, a roly, soft, sweet, sweet, nuzzling and cooing baby doesn't hurt either.

My husband pointed out last night that I hadn't blogged in awhile. I've been mulling around on the irony of how blogging has lead to some really cool writing projects for me and has expanded my audience to a wider cirlce, but in the end, that has left me with zero time to blog and less fodder because people in the real world come here nowadays and I am feeling a little stiffled.

Why don't you write about him? He asked, pointing to the 13 pounds of love which are permanently situated on my lap when I am home. I feel like it's not fair to that one I said, and I gestured to his older brother. But it's not fair to you to not do it, said the husband. The more I think about the more I think he's right.

Here's the thing: We are not baby people, my husband and I. We were not ones to grab babies from people arms and insist on holding them. We never dreamed starry-eyed of having babies or squealed at cute baby clothes. Until now. We are both, madly, completely, bottomless-ly, silly-talk kind of in love with this child.

My older son has procured lots of space on this blog, it's not that there is not enough real estate to go around. It's that the second time around could not be more different and I feel different than I did before and that's where the internal mother-conflict arises.

Baby one rocked my world but baby two smooths out the rough edges. I questioned after number one if I could even handle two, while number two makes me feel like I'd be crazy not to have five more. I doubted if I could love another like I loved the first. Dare I say, Iove him more.

I cringe as I write that because no, of course I don't love him more than I love his brother. But it's so much easier to love him and I've fallen hard and fast without all of that oh my god I'm a mother and I don't feel like a mother and I don't know what the hell is going on bullshit. I had to grow up and out and around in many ways to accomodate to the changes my first born brought with him but my second child easily assumed his place in our family. My arms. My heart. His spot was well thought out and carved just for him and he fits there beautifully. I feel like we were destined to meet and I appreciate him, and that gift that I almost smiled politely at and said no thank you to, that much more.

The fact that he is a baby, a roly, soft, sweet, sweet, nuzzling and cooing baby doesn't hurt either.

November 04, 2008

This morning the sun is bright blue, the leaves are brilliant reds and oranges and the wind is warm and calm. I don't recall ever seeing a day in November like this before.

During the last presidential election I waited in line for almost two hours to vote. This election I have two kids and I voted early to make sure my vote was in place long before the polls closed. On my way back to work after voting I saw a line around the City Municipal Building of people waiting to vote early. I have never seen that before.

As I drove through the city this morning I saw Obama volunteers on almost every street corner holding up signs that reminded you it's not too late to register and vote. I smiled at each one of them and my son gave them all a thumbs-up. They smiled back, waved the signs or cheered. I have never seen people doing that before.

I have faught back tears more than once today. I have never felt like this on election day before.

I think it speaks so loudly of Obama (and McCain) that not only are unprecidented numbers of people engaged in this election and discussing the issues and paying attention, but many more are out on street corners and canvassing neighborhoods. Taking time off of work. Gathering at campaign headquarters. Giving time and money and most importantly, themselves. Their passion.

People want this. I want this so badly. For my family, my kids. I have never experienced such a powerful outpouring of support and civic activity. This can't be for naught. We have been presented with an amazing opportunity. We have been given a real leader. Someone who wants to lead this country not for himself, but for us. With us. He has already shown he can get people out on the streets.

I'll be up late tonight, into tomorow if need be, watching and waiting with the world. I'm hopeful for a clean victory, but I know one is not gauranteed and is not likely to be swift.

This morning the sun is bright blue, the leaves are brilliant reds and oranges and the wind is warm and calm. I don't recall ever seeing a day in November like this before.

During the last presidential election I waited in line for almost two hours to vote. This election I have two kids and I voted early to make sure my vote was in place long before the polls closed. On my way back to work after voting I saw a line around the City Municipal Building of people waiting to vote early. I have never seen that before.

As I drove through the city this morning I saw Obama volunteers on almost every street corner holding up signs that reminded you it's not too late to register and vote. I smiled at each one of them and my son gave them all a thumbs-up. They smiled back, waved the signs or cheered. I have never seen people doing that before.

I have faught back tears more than once today. I have never felt like this on election day before.

I think it speaks so loudly of Obama (and McCain) that not only are unprecidented numbers of people engaged in this election and discussing the issues and paying attention, but many more are out on street corners and canvassing neighborhoods. Taking time off of work. Gathering at campaign headquarters. Giving time and money and most importantly, themselves. Their passion.

People want this. I want this so badly. For my family, my kids. I have never experienced such a powerful outpouring of support and civic activity. This can't be for naught. We have been presented with an amazing opportunity. We have been given a real leader. Someone who wants to lead this country not for himself, but for us. With us. He has already shown he can get people out on the streets.

I'll be up late tonight, into tomorow if need be, watching and waiting with the world. I'm hopeful for a clean victory, but I know one is not gauranteed and is not likely to be swift.